Moments in Time
by Dame March Dolcetto
Summary: There were days of peace and days of chaos, and all of them, worth remembering. Old prompt fills I wrote and am collating, most of which are meant to be platonic
1. It Wasn't My Fault! (baby dragoncentric)

**Old stuff I (anonymously) wrote from a few years back. Figured I'd finally collate these old things (and maybe give 'em a spell/grammar check). Don't mind me...**

 **Anonymous asked: Just a short, fluffy prompt where the Hero is feeling a bit down and their dragon does everything they can to make them smile.**

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It wasn't my fault! This isn't fair!

Honestly! Why does everyone always blame me?! It wasn't my fault! Whatever those other humans said, the innkeeper-human did _not_ have the right to lock me out of the inn! Honestly! So what if I scared a few kids into giving me all their sweetpalm berries? It's not my fault they couldn't understand Draconic! I'll have you know I asked them for their berries _very_ politely! I said my pleases and thank-yous as nicely as my own Dragonlord would've done! So there! It wasn't my fault. Don't look at me like that, I'm being serious!

Oh, and the kitchen fires weren't my fault either! Really! It wasn't my fault their ovens weren't made for dragon claws! If anything, that was a serious manufacturing design that that stupid innkeeper human should really get to fixing! It wasn't my fault, _really._ It wasn't my fault I couldn't turn the knobs properly; again, I repeat, that was just because of bad designs that _weren't me fault_. So if I ended up getting frustrated and using my fire-breathing to get the oven going, it wasn't my fault, it was the oven's fault. And if my fire-breath got a little out of hand, so what? No one got _hurt._ At least I think no one did. So there. It wasn't my fault.

And the mess in kitchen? It wasn't _that_ bad, they overreacted, I'm telling you. It was all that silly innkeeper's fault for keeping such badly designed kitchen tools! Really, why did all of the stuff in her kitchen had to be so badly designed? She should really invest in some good, dragon-usable spoons. And whisks. And kitchens. If I made a big mess in the kitchens, it was all _her_ fault! The flour on the ceiling? Her fault. The jam on the walls? _Her_ fault. The butter in Ash's pants? _HER FAULT!_

Anyway, I would've never made that mess if that stupid baking yaga saved some sweet rolls for me at the town bakery. Out of stock my tail! She _should've_ saved some for _me._ I saved the world! I'm the world destroyer! I swear, I get no respect. Hmph! So if I made a bit of a mess in her bakery, it wasn't my fault, it was hers. And the thing is, she _should've_ just made more when I asked! So what if I didn't have any money on me at that time? I would've paid her back even if I had to bring out my super-secret treasure stash to do it! What do you mean I'm not trust-worthy?! I'm a dragon of legend, I'm as trustworthy as anything! And then there was that whole fuss she made when I asked for the ingredients to make those stupid rolls. Honestly! If anything, she _owed_ me those ingredients for not having any rolls to begin with! But no, she just _had_ to make a big fuss about it. She didn't even give me that many! Heck, she even had the guts to make me find the sweetpalm berries for the jam by myself! So the mess with the kids? That was her fault, too! I swear, if I didn't know what my Dragonlord would say about it, I would've taken everything then burnt the whole bakery down with her in it! _That_ would've shown that stupid, evil _witch!_

So really, none of the stuff that happened today was my fault! The scared kids, the fire in the kitchen, the mess in the kitchen, the mess in the bakery – none of those were my fault! Heck, I've been downright _nice_ this whole day! You know who're really to blame? The Rose dummies for being Rose dummies, the bandits for being still being bands o' idiots and all the other dumbos who thought they could take on the town when me and my Dragonlord were there to defend it! Really! Those idiots've just been attacking almost _day after day_ and my Dragonlord's been getting _so tired_ of fending them all off that I just _had_ to do something about it! So sure, maybe all the stuff that happened today could've been averted if I just told my Dragonlord to get the stuff I needed for me but that would've ruined the surprise, wouldn't it? I just wanted to surprise them with something nice, cheer them up a bit! Avatars _know_ just how much they deserved it – they deserve the world and everything in it for all they've done for everyone. Heck, they deserve everything just for _being_ my _Dragonlord!_ So really, everything that happened in the kitchens and the bakery earlier? It was the everyone else's fault.

In fact, my only fault today was the mess my Dragonlord made in our room after I told them the whole story and they just fell over, laughing, and smushed all the leftover sweet rolls all over the floor. And honestly, the way my Hero smiled the whole evening after made even cleaning up that sticky mess seem worth it.

...Oi, if you tell them I told you that, I will eat you. You get it?

You better.

If you don't, it won't be my fault if you disappear.

It's never my fault, you know!


	2. Magic Paper (Warlic&Hero humor)

**I'm not sure why I wrote this but I remember I was bored. And then I wrote this.**

 **... Enjoy!**

 **Anonymous asked: PLEASE, SOMETHING WITH WARLIC, ANYTHING WITH WARLIC, I'M SO DESPERATE.**

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Magic Paper

Anonymous asked: PLEASE, SOMETHING WITH WARLIC, ANYTHING WITH WARLIC, I'M SO DESPERATE.

 _Magic Paper_

"…wow. You're _really_ bad at this. That's nine-to-one, your loss."

"I…I just can't _understand_ it."

Warlic, for the first time ever, looked completely and utterly baffled. Not in the usual what-has-Cysero-done-this-time manner but in the I-understand-nothing manner which he himself was all too familiar with.

 _I should save this moment for posterity,_ he chuckles to himself. It was refreshing, nay, _uplifting_ to see that even Warlic, the Blue Mage and one of the smartest people he knew, could get as lost as he currently was. And because of _him,_ of all people.

Managing to suppress his gleeful smirk, he wrapped the mage's fist inside his hand.

"It's not _that_ hard to get. Scissors beat paper, rock beats scissors, and paper beats rock. That's all there is to it."

The Blue Mage still looked confused. "But _how_ can paper beat rock?"

"Paper covers rock."

"Paper can also cover scissors and still, scissors will triumph over paper."

"Well, yes but No, I mean… look," he rummages through his inventory for a minute before procuring a rock and a sheet of paper then crumpling the paper around the rock. "Look, see, it's covering the rock. Now the rock can't hurt it."

Warlic lifted a finger. A shard of rock ripped through the paper.

"… _well?"_

He suppresses a chuckle. Man, Warlic could look _smug._ He never knew that. It was _adorable._

"Magic is cheating, Warlic."

"If I were to throw that rock at that paper, the result would be the same."

"Not if the paper was covering it."

Warlic raised a hand to massage his temples. "But how is the paper to cover the rock?"

"Same way the scissors cut the paper. It's like, y'know, it's purpose."

He crossed his arms. "The purpose of paper is to record information. It's purpose is not to cover rocks."

Ah, that look in his eyes. The classic 'I-got-you-now!' look most of his enemies gave him while finishing up their monologues, the one that usually only lasted about five seconds before he shoved a blade through their doomsday device/ultimate weapon/unstoppable monster (and sometimes their abdomens, chests and faces). Beautiful.

"What about if it was _wrapping paper?_ "

"Wrapping paper or no, that wrapping paper would be destroyed if I were to throw a rock at it."

Back to that again? Really? He sighs. He changes tack.

"You know, it astounds me that this is your first time playing rock-paper-scissors. How old are you again?"

This time, it's Warlic who sighs. "A mage is not to waste time playing this 'rock-paper-scissors' when there is research to be done."

"Tell my sister that."

"You have a sister?"

"If I _had_ a sister, you could tell her that."

Warlic looked irritable. "I didn't have many people to play with as a child. No one had ever taught me of this."

He lifts a brow. "And you never read about it? I mean, it's mentioned a lot in stories and stuff."

"Not in the ones _I've_ read."

He smirks. "Okay, you know what? Since you're such a newb to this, I'll let you in on the secret."

Warlic raised a brow. "The secret?" He looks skeptical now.

"Yeah, the secret passed down from rock-paper-scissors player to rock-paper-scissors player when they attain true mastery to the art of rock-paper-scissors."

He looked so interested, it made him want to cackle. In fact, if he hadn't been a rogue, he probably would've, by now.

"Y'see, when we talk about _paper_ in rock-paper-scissors, we're talking about, well, _magic_ paper."

"Magic…paper?"

"Yeah! Like…magic paper pulp, basically. Rock can't smash through that, now, can it? If a rock tries, it'll just get all covered in the gunk."

Warlic looked thoughtful, for a moment. "But then, how would the scissors cut the paper?"

"The scissors are ice-element. They _freeze_ the magic paper pulp so they can, y'know, shatter it."

"I see!" Warlic looked as if the blinds had been lifted from his eyes. "And rock beats scissors as ice-elemental objects are more fragile than stone-elemental! That makes sense!" Then he frowns. "But then, why are these secrets?"

"Weeeell, because rock-magic paper pulp-ice-element scissors is too big a mouthful, we just compress it to rock-paper-scissors. The guys who first made the game were really embarrassed about it so they made rock-paper-scissors the title and assumed people would accept 'paper covers rock' as a good reason for it to win."

"I understand. Thank you, for trusting me with this secret."

He manages to suppress a chuckle as he smiles at Warlic.

"Well, let's continue?"

"Let's."

And their games of rock-magic paper pulp-ice-element scissors continued into the night.


	3. Whipped Cream (Hero&Aegis crack)

**The story that birthed Jennifer "Jenny" Flarien. And her many future selves. I remember I wrote this as stress relief. It, uh... it shows. Pure crack. Oh, and offended Jenny has a bit of a pottymouth.**

 **Anonymous asked: The Hero from a post-apocalyptic version of Lore travels to the past to warn their past selves and the NPC of your choice about the upcoming events… while butt-naked and covered in whipped cream. I just want to see their reactions, mostly. Pwetty pwease?**

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The bitter tang of blood. The scorching desert heat. The numbing chill of frost. The paralyzing screams of the damned. A million different sensations whirled through her body the minute the spell took hold, filling the woman with both hope and dread. Magic swirled around her, an endless cyclone of power, tearing apart what little remained of the once bustling town. She grips her weapon tightly as the swirls of magic threatened to rip it from her grasp, the shining dagger the epicenter of the storm, her knife the last remnant of the powers of the once mighty Kingdom of Swordhaven. Should she open her eyes or should she wait for the spell to finally end? If she opened them too soon, would she see the picturesque scenes of her past or the endless ruins of her present? She did not know. Regardless, she can only hope, and pray, that the spell they'd cast would be enough. How long had it been since she'd last seen a spell of this magnitude, let alone helped in its casting? Millenias, it felt. She hadn't had cause to use such magic since the days when she was merely the simple Hero of Falconreach, back before the Rose's swansong ruined the world. She grips her weapon in an effort to comfort herself; she can only hope that she'd be enough. To fix the world. To change the future. To save the present.

The whirl of magic surrounding her finally slowed and only then did she finally think to open her eyes. The air around her -was it truly air?- felt unnaturally cool against her skin.

No sooner than she did did she have to raise her blade to deflect a sudden burst of power, icy-blue sparks tearing into a floating island as it arced away from her magical knife. Smoke flooded her field of vision but the power was unmistakable.

"Aegis," she whispers.

So it had worked, that risky, horrible spell of hers. It had actually worked.

For the first time in what felt like years, her tired, chapped lips curled into a smile.

She falls into a crouch, her feet meeting dusty, wooden floors. Her knife gleams at her side, ready to defend herself. The smoke clears. Aegis was there, unmistakably, indubitably, her /Aegis/. Avatars, but it had been aeons since she had last seen her Soul-Ally!

His eyes catch hers. His mouth widens.

"Jenny?"

Ah, Jenny. It'd been so long since she'd last been called by that childhood nickname. In the years following the cataclysm at Espina Rosa, she'd been known as nothing more than 'you' or 'human' or, for the few who still remembered and had the minds to use it, 'Jennifer'. Her eyes burned and her throat hitched.

"Aegis, what is going on?"

The voice startles her out of her reverie. So young…

She'd almost forgotten that she'd ever been quite so young as the girl in front of her. 'Jenny'. That name suited the girl far better than it suited her.

The owner of the voice finally came into full-view, the young girl still clad in the armors she herself had shed during the beginning of the end. The girl-Jenny looked so young, so… innocent, somehow, despite all the battles she knew she'd partaken in. The girl-Jenny, her hair still in braids and her hands yet unwrinkled. It was hard to believe she'd ever been that girl-Jenny.

But she had been and that was one of the reasons she here in the first place.

The girl-Jenny finally sees her. Her jaw drops.

"…how?" the little thing squeaks, her eyes seeking her Soul-Ally's and finding no answer. Aegis himself seemed nearly opaque with surprise. The magic he'd called forth to defend the ship had now dispersed around him in an icy mist.

Finally, she speaks.

"Jennifer Flarien," she begins, her voice cracking from lack of use. "I'm from the future and I've come to warn you about what is coming your way."

The girl-Jenny seemed unable to speak.

Mayhap she was surprised about this turn of events?

Alright, so I'll admit, today hadn't been a very good day. Draco flew off, _again_ , after raiding the Void Ship's food supply and that reeeeally hasn't done much to improve Tomix's temper, especially seeing as it happened right after we got back from a supply run. Seeing as how we're all kinda stranded in the middle of the Void as of the moment, I wouldn't be surprised if Drakey-kins food-raid would finally send him into a snapping fit. He'd been moody since we'd been set adrift and I honestly couldn't blame him.

Now the earlier crash on the deck? Now _that_ , I knew, would _definitely_ be enough to send him into a snapping fit if we didn't take care of whatever asshole thought it'd be fun to blow holes in our already half-broken ship. In fact, I'm sure that if I hadn't cast my Cryptic-Illusion around his room, he'd be already blowing holes in whatever was stupid enough to attack us in our already badly weakened state. As it was, me, and Aegis, were currently the only ones awake for guard duty ready to fight off the attacker.

However, though I can boast of meeting more than a few things worthy of giving a Rose-peon a heart attack, I'll admit that I've never seen anything quite as strange as the sight in front of me.

"Jennifer Flarien," the _thing_ began, its voice far too familiar for comfort. "I'm from the future and I've come to warn you about what is coming your way."

The thing was a woman -

I rub at my eyes. Yep. Still the same.

-ass-naked aside from a layer of what looked like whipped cream smeared all over her body. Said whipped cream currently _dripping_ all over the floor I'd _just mopped_ a couple of hours ago.

…I knew it was a bad idea to get drunk in the Void. When I see Vaal later, I swear I'm going to punch him for daring me to go on that stupid drinking game. Who knows what kind of crazy, alcohol-driven hallucinations the Void'll put me through?

… aside from the one I'm currently experiencing, of course.

The thing that _really_ made this one take the cake was just how much this woman looked like me. If it was a splitting image of me then, yeah, it'd be freaky, but at least I'd had _some_ experience dealing with those kinds of hallucinations, courtesy of that fugly-ass squid. As it was, the woman in front of me could've been my mother but, at the same time, was practically a mirror image of myself. She looked like me, give or take a decade or two.

…Lords, waking up tomorrow's gonna be a bitch.

"Jenny," Aegis whispered. "Are you… seeing what I think I'm seeing?"

The whipped-cream-clad woman was still talking though, I'll admit, I wasn't really paying attention. Aegis was looking at me from the corner of his eye, looking suitably freaked out.

… though… if the lady was my hallucination… why was Aegis seeing it…?

"… are you seeing a naked lady covered in whipped cream?" I whisper back and when he nods, I just barely stop myself from cursing. I try to sense for illusions. As a Cryptic, I was pretty good at spotting and sensing for illusion-magic but, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't sense anything. So, it was either we were facing someone who was a better illusionist than I was or the naked, creamy lady was real.

I honestly don't know which one I'd prefer.

"Jenny." Aegis muttered, his voice just barely audible. "This woman… she feels exactly like you."

I glance at him from under my fringe. He was looking straight at the woman, staring so hard, he looked like he was trying to set her on fire. Or, well, ice, I guess. He kept looking to her then back to me. I guess he was trying to see just how alike we were.

…I _do_ hope that that's the case, at least. The whipped cream didn't leave a lot to imagination and, possible alcohol-induced Void hallucination or not, I had to admit that the lady looked way sexy. In fact, now that I think about, she had a pretty great figure for a woman of her age. For my age, I was still - well, now I'm actually getting kinda jeal-

Not now, Jenny. Later.

"What do you mean?" I mutter back. He looked at me then back at her, lips pursed.

"It's like… I feel like I'm bonded to her as well as you… but, at the same time, she's already bonded with someone else… " He shook his head, grimacing. "I've never heard of this happening before so I don't know anything either. Sorry, Jenny."

"It's fine," I answered. The woman was now pacing as she talked, gesturing wildly with a dagger that, to my consternation, looked almost exactly like the ones I forged myself. "It's not your fault."

Aegis spares the woman another glance before looking back at me. "Should we talk to her?"

I look at her again. I could hear her saying some shit about the world ending and zombies taking over the world but, honestly, I couldn't really understand what she was going on about. I listen for a few more minutes until I finally get was going at.

She was recruiting me for a quest. Sheesh, if she wanted my help, all she had to do was ask. I'd do it even without all this malarkey about zombies.

"Jenny?"

"Yeah, I think we should talk to her," I whisper. "I think I have an idea about what she's here for."

I approach her somewhat cautiously, my hand ready on my dagger, Aegis lagging just a few steps behind. She seems to brighten at my approach, breaking into a smile when I near an arm's length of her.

"Do you understand then?" she whispers and only now do I realize that even her voice matched mine… only, maybe, she sounded like she might've been high off of potion fumes. "What needs to be done to ensure your world's salvation?"

"…um, no?"

She looks so put out I actually felt sorta sorry for her. Well, whatever. I'll do her quest and I won't even ask for my usual fees. Heck, I'll even throw in a set of clothes for her. I could afford it, anyway.

"Sorry, it was kinda hard to pay attention earlier… too many uh," it takes more than a little concentration to stop myself from staring at her. "Drinks, earlier," I finish lamely. Without looking, I could sense Aegis snickering behind my back. Sometimes, I wonder who's side he's on.

"Ah, alcohol," she says wistfully. "I'd all but forgotten of the sweet bliss of inebriation. Such a thing has long since become a luxury no one can afford in the time from which I hail. But I suppose I cannot fault you. Your world is not like mine and I pray that it will never be."

"…what?"

She sighs. I suppose it would probably look all serious-like if it weren't for her state of undress. Yeesh, and I thought my old Pirate armor was bad.

"What do you mean, 'your time'?" Aegis asks, looking genuinely curious. "Who are you? What is your name"

She inclines her head slightly. "I, Aegis, am the Jennifer Flarien of a future I hope will never come to pass, of a world filled with naught but desolation," she smiles, apparently not caring about how I was gaping like a fish. "We've met before, of course, but, all the same, it is a pleasure to meet you once again, Aegis."

I didn't need to look to know that Aegis was just as frozen as I was. Or, well, used to be.

"So, what you're saying is…" I begin, raising a hand to massage my temples in the hopes of warding off what would probably be an enormous headache. "You're me. From the future."

She nods. "Correct. I am you or, at the very least, you could've been me as I had once been you."

One quick look at her with my Cryptic powers told me that she wasn't lying, either. Gods of Lore. Really? _Really?_

"Ooookaaaaaay," I say even though absolutely nothing was okay. "Soooooo… what are you doing here? Isn't having, y'know, two of us at the same time, at the same place s'posed to ah… destroy the fabric of time and space and all that?"

She straightens. "Having the two of us in this, single timeline is not ideal, I admit," she says slowly. "But no other choice was available to us. If it came to choosing between ending both our worlds in a single stroke and damning our worlds into the cureless decay, most of those in my time agreed that a swift end was infinitely more acceptable."

"…okay," I say, not having understood a single word.

"So," Aegis begins. "Your own world… it's doomed and you don't want our world to end up the same way, is that what you're saying?"

"Astutely put, Aegis," she says. Astutely put _indeed_. I'm honestly impressed.

"How was your world doomed?" I ask.

Her face darkens.

"The day came when the Rose attempted to seal off the ley lines, the Verix, the Horix and the Core in its entirety. They failed," she begins slowly. "And doom, Armageddon, Ragnarok, the Apocalypse, came upon us. A deluge of tainted magic exploded from every ley line, every nexus, and afflicted practically all with a disease that ate away at their very life force, burnt out the magic that was the source of our lives, of our spirits. Those who had been attempting to cast spells when the tragedy occurred died on the spot. Only I and a handful of others remained unafflicted. And even then, we were not without our woes. Those who'd managed to survive the initial onslaught of the decay had lost their minds, become nothing more than savages. Each day, we spent looking for a cure that did not exist as we fought off those who had once been our friends even as our numbers dwindled by the day until, many years later, only I, and five others, remained. And we six knew that we had no chance, not against the odds we faced. And so, with the last of our power, they sent me back before the tragedy occurred, in hopes that we could, at the very least, save your world as we had not been able to save ours."

You could've heard a pin drop.

That was… holy shit, that was…

A smear of cream dripped off of her left butt-cheek.

…really sad and tragic and all but hard to believe when it came from a woman naked and smeared in whipped cream.

"What can we do to stop this 'decay'?" Aegis asks. "How are we to stop this future?" Figures he could take Miss Creamy-Me seriously.

A smile spreads over her features. "We must stop the sealing, at all costs. If we can do this, this world's future may become one filled with hope."

"Great," I manage. "We'll do it. We'll stop it. Just tell us how we'll stop it and…"

I can't help it. I'm immature, I know, I'm sorry.

"…but could you please put some pants on first? It's… hard to take you seriously like that…"

"Ah," she said absently, her eyes glazing over and still not putting on any _pants_. Or, heck, _underwear_. "I'd forgotten how much of a prude I'd been in my youth."

 _Prude!?_

"Well, excuuuse me if I get offended by my future-self _waltzing_ in from the past ass-naked where everyone can see!" I say hotly, automatically gripping onto the handle of my dagger to try and keep myself from exploding at the weirdo. It's not that I don't like the way I look or anything but I'm not _that_ much of a narcissist that I'd just walk around, buck-ass nude out in the open!

 _And especially not while coated in whipped cream!_

Smug bitch didn't even look offended, only smiling fondly as if I were just the cutest little puppy in the universe.

"I apologize; I meant no offense," she says placatingly, her smile all too familiar and her body still without underwear. I swear, this is becoming the most awkward moment of my existence. Behind me, I hear Aegis chortling behind his hand. Dick. "But clothing has since become a luxury I cannot afford. I no longer own any."

I manage to stop my jaw from dropping but only barely. "Are you fucking shitting me?" I demand. I could feel a headache coming on and, Avatars, I swear this bitch is gonna make me regret my life choices. All of them.

She shakes her head solemnly. Something that probably would've looked really serious and regal and all that shit if she was, you know, wearing clothes. Or wasn't covered in whipped cream. What was up with all that cream anyway? "I do not kid, Jenny," she says seriously. Fucking shit, was she serious? Lorithia, she _was_ , wasn't she? "My world no longer allows for hesitation or modesty. Only survival."

"I'd think you'd survive a lot better if your general chest area was protected," I mutter. She only smiles. Bitch.

"Others needed that protection more than I do and, as a Hero, I lived to serve them."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," I wave dismissively. "If that's the case then what it up with whipped cream?"

She blinks. "Whipped cream is delicious," she says simply.

I blink.

… was it too late to think that this was all just a bad, alcohol-induced dream?

"I agree," I hear Aegis agree and I swear, I nearly gave myself whiplash because of how quickly I whipped back to stare at him. He was dead serious. Lords, and they called _me_ insane. "Whipped cream is one of the things I miss most about being alive. I still miss it."

One of my eyebrows somehow rises of its own accord and finds itself parked barely a millimeter below my hair-line. "Seriously?"

He looks almost offended. "Whipped cream is no joke, Jen," he says seriously. "It's one of the best things about being alive."

I was too tired to even try and find an answer to that.

"Indeed, whipped cream was, back in my time, the only luxury we allowed ourselves," my future self says, looking just as serious as Aegis and about twenty times more ridiculous. "It is love. It is beauty and - "

"It is life," Aegis finishes and my future self gives him a grateful smile.

"…okay. Whipped cream. Cool. So uh…" I say awkwardly. "I'm in. I'll uh… save the world again, I guess. Just tell me what I need to do. Aegis, you in?"

He turns to my future self. "I might not be the Aegis of your time," he says slowly. "But as long as you live, I will be your Soul-Ally every bit as much as I am to the Jenny of this time. I promise to help in any way I can."

Nice one, Aegis.

"Good," she says, smiling regally. "I am grateful to you both."

"Alright, then," I say tiredly, bringing out my quest log and a quill-pen. "Let's get this over with so that you can go home and we can all go to sleep. Just… tell me what we need to do. I'll write it down.

"Actually," she starts, her smile suddenly bashful. "I… can no longer go back to my own time. The spell I used only works once per person."

I stifle a scream.

"The good news, however," she continues. "Is that I will be free to assist you in saving your time. After all, even now, I'm still a Hero and I promise you, despite my failures in saving my own world, I'm quite capable."

My hand's already at my face. Gods, how was I going to explain this to Tomix? I open my mouth to start off what was undoubtedly going to be a beautifully epic tirade about how she couldn't stay with me, about all the problems her being here would cause and about how uncomfortable her state of undress made me feel but, instead, what I ended up saying was: "You know what? I'm tired, I'm sleepy and I'm probably drunk off my ass but I'm still gonna say it: sure. Why the flying fuck not? I've seen weirder and I'm going to keep seeing weirder so I might as well get used to it. But while you're here, you're gonna have to wear pants."

She smiles benignly in response.

"I may have to borrow yours."  
—


	4. Ambrosia (Warlic&Hero crack)

**I wrote this in a cake store. Just like Birthday Treats. I'm pretty sure it shows. Pure crack and a lot of food**

 **Anonymous asked: If someone could hit me up with a quick Warlic/Hero fix I'd be grateful for even just a drabble?**

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It's on his third day's work when Warlic starts to wonder why his desk suddenly looked like a marshmallow.

He's pretty sure it wasn't a marshmallow when he got here and he's been here all week and he's pretty sure he would've noticed if his desk turned into a marshmallow while he was working – or would he? The grimoires on elemental magic he'd found had certainly had his attention for the past few days – in fact, he hasn't left to eat or sleep ever since he got them, using magic to sustain him – and time-locked spells weren't beyond Cysero's skillset…

His stomach growls and loudly too. He looks down at the desk-that-might-be-a-marshmallow then down at his stomach. He _was_ hungry and the desk-that-might-be-a-marshmallow was starting to look more appetizing by the second and – he looks around the tower – no one was around and what was the worst that could happen? He was hungry and Cysero's magic food was almost always edible and, yep, he was definitely going to do it. Move aside _Compendium of Elemental Effects,_ he wanted to see if his desk was a marshma-

"Warlic? Can I come in?"

"Of course," and he's already leaning back into his chair, _Compendium of Elemental Effects_ open on his lap, eyes glued on its contents as the visitor clambers into the tower, taking the seat across him with a cheery grin.

"Good afternoon, Hero," he says and it's a wonder he can manage to sound normal when he was so _rudely_ interrupted but, well, maybe it was for the best, after all, what would happen to his reputation if anyone caught him trying to eat his desk-?

"Hey, uh, not to be rude, but why were you drooling over your desk earlier?"

… _Drat._ Not a marshmallow, then.

"Drooling? What are you talking about?" he says innocently, hiding his disappointment over his desk that wasn't a marshmallow rather expertly. It was an honest shame. He had been really hungry too. To think he had actually been this close to eating his desk. Yeah, he really should've eaten, damn the tomes, he could always eat while he worked. Wait, did he even have any food left? He hadn't gotten the groceries like he was supposed to yesterday, maybe he could ask the Hero to get some for him? It could work as a quest, perhaps…

"…Never mind, then," the Hero finally said, looking at him strangely. "I have the essences you asked for. When will the weapon be finished?"

"Tonight, at the latest," he says, now staring at the Hero who now, somehow, looked like a talking turducken drumstick. "You wanted me to enchant your Stria daggers with Wind magic, correct?"

"Yep," answered the giant, talking drumstick. "I need some Wind weapons to complete my arsenal."

Had his part of the tower always been filled with so much food? The book in his hands seemed to look less like a book and more like a sandwich with each passing moment and the others scattered all over his desk were starting to look the same way and, wow, had his curtains always been like licorice? He must check –

"So, uh, are you hungry? You've sorta been staring at me like I'm a Hero-Burger for a while now."

"Just a tad," he answers mildly, staring at the Hero who now, yes, _did_ look like a Hero-Burger and damn, if that didn't speak volumes of how hungry he was. Where would he eat, though? Falconreach Inn was always crowded at this time but, surely, the innkeeper wouldn't mind sneaking him in? Or maybe he could go to Oaklore? Sir Loin made excellent Doom Burgers –

"Well, it's not much, but I cooked lunch. Do you want some? I should have enough for both of us – "

"Please," he replies, smiling, managing to stop himself from falling at his Savior's feet in worship. It wouldn't do for the Blue Mage to be caught doing such things, after all, even if the Hero _had_ just saved his life and possibly his sanity –

The Hero smiles before taking out a large wicker basket from apparently nowhere and setting up plates for them both on his desk, complete with cutlery, napkins and a vase of flowers. He does sometimes wonder how heroes do that but he doesn't ask, because the Hero's just brought out a thermos and the moment that thermos was uncapped, the heavens themselves opened as the most delicate aroma he had ever smelled graced his presence as the Hero poured what must have been the essence of pure happiness into a ceramic bowl which was then put onto his plate, along with a silver soup spoon.

"It's not much, mind, just some cheese soup, but Gretel said I've been improving so it should be okay."

He wants to cry.

Actually, he might already be crying.

Because what he ate wasn't the best cheese soup he's ever had, what he ate was pure happiness and sunshine rolled up with godly ambrosia and sprinkled with the tears of Lorithia herself. He can't stop himself, he shovels the soup down his throat like he's starving because he _is_ and if there really was a paradise hidden within Death's Realm then this soup was it, no questions asked, and, wow, why was his bowl empty already, he'd barely even _started –_

A thermos descends from the hand of his Savior and refills his bowl and grants the world peace.

And then, miraculously, the heavens opened anew as a plate of rolls was placed before his plate, each baked delicacy gleaming like the finest gold. It's the type of bread someone would say was made out of magic, not that he would say that, because he's a great mage and he still has yet to make something as wondrous and world-changing as this bread, right here, sitting in front of him like it hadn't just changed his life then changed it some more.

"You must be real hungry, huh? Try dipping it in. It's pretty good, if I do say so myself."

The bread isn't just 'pretty good', the crust is thick and crisp and coated with crushed herbs and smells like it's spring in the spice garden of the Elemental Lord of Earth and tastes like what might just be the key to world peace and when he dips one roll into the soup, it tastes like –

He's in love.

No, really, he, Warlic the Blue Mage is in love.

He looks up from his all-too-quickly-emptied bowl and all-too-quickly-emptied plate at the face of his Hero, his Savior and the love of his life.

"Ah, done already? That was fast. Here, have some tea. It's been really chilly lately and-"

"Marry me."

"…wha?"

He gets on his knees while still on his chair and looks beseechingly up at the person who opened his eyes to the true beauty of the universe and asks, once more:

"I love you. Marry me."

"But we've only known each other for around two months."

"Marry me."

What did he care for months in a year when the whole of eternity was open before him, courtesy of the roll dipped in cheese soup that the Hero had so selflessly provided him? Time was no boundary, now that he's had his eyes opened. Who knew how many more secrets they could unlock together, he and this Hero? How many more revelations will be revealed to him over the course of his life should he become the Hero's husband and the subject to said Hero's, hopefully, many future cooking endeavors? At his death, perhaps millennia from now, he knows that, should he become wed to the now love of his life, this Hero, he will die knowing what happiness truly was and will die, happy, a plate of food finished at his side.

Think of all the things they could do together!

"…I – ah – have to go. Hero stuff, you know. So, uh, see you, sometime, when you're not, well, crazy."

The love of his life and the light of his day seems to blur right out of his tent and out of his grasp, leaving him alone with his thoughts, a full stomach, and a darkness that seeps through his soul in the absence of his newfound love, in the absence of-

The love of his life's head pokes through the doorway of his tower.

"You can have the rest of the soup, by the way. I'll pick it up, with the daggers, tomorrow. Try not to be crazy by then, alright?"

He cradles the thermos of soup to his chest, tears streaming from his shut eyes, drool trailing from the sides of his mouth.

"Marry me."

"Goodbye, Warlic."


	5. Nectar (Warlic&Hero bonding)

**The slightly more serious counterpart to Ambrosia. I wrote this not in a cakeshop but in a nice restaurant. I'm pretty sure it shows. Meant to be platonic but interpret as you will**

 **Anonymous asked: I'M BEGGING ANYONE AND EVERYONE, PLEASE WRITE A HERO/WARLIC STORY PLEASE?**

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What woke him wasn't the sudden crash and clatter and muffled cursing that came from somewhere around the Tower; he had Cysero for a roommate and was much more used to the phenomenon than even he would like to be. Rather, what woke him was the realization that he was, to his surprise, in bed, tucked in and, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, quite comfortable.

He hadn't allowed himself the luxury of sleep in quite a while now. Around a week back, in thanks for the help he'd given, the people of Lymecrest had given him a collection of grimoires on elemental magic and he had been working on translating them ever since. They were incredibly promising, really. One tome in particular, _The Compendium of Elemental Effects,_ held some rather fascinating spells, to the point that he'd actually hoped he might've finally found the cure for –

Well. The point was, he hadn't. After spending three days and three nights doing nothing but studying the rituals and spells that the _Compendium_ had to offer, he'd been forced to conclude that it did not, in fact, have anything to offer with regards to his former fellow apprentices. Dimly, he could recall closing the tome, then deciding on taking a short break, falling asleep right on his desk.

 _Not_ , in point of fact, in his bed. He'd been too drained to make even the short trip from his desk to his bedroom. Which begged the question: how did he get to his bedroom?

It couldn't be Cysero, he decided as he eased himself out from beneath the covers. It wasn't his style. The Mad Weaponsmith would've been more likely to transfigure his desk into some kind of marshmallow-bed hybrid then let him sleep there than to bring him to his bedroom. He supposed there was a chance of transporting him here with some kind of magic but, given the lack of mayonnaise or marinara sauce or general lack of Cysero-induced food-stuffs hanging around his being, he rather doubted it.

Who else could it have been though? He supposed Artix might've paid him a visit while he slept and brought him here out of respect but, considering Doomwood's state, that seemed doubtful. Perhaps Celestia had stopped by for their weekly tea session and brought him here? Even then, that seemed unlikely. If that were the case, he would've sensed her rather… _distinctive_ presence even now. But then, who could it have been? It _was_ possible that he could've woken sometime during his slumber then went to bed then simply forgotten but then -

The smell of something hot and sweet and _rich_ washed over him, a fragrant scent that reminded him of flowers and dewdrops and just how _hungry_ he was.

All previous thoughts abandoned, he followed the scent, eyes half-closed and stomach growling. He hadn't eaten in a while, he realized. Ever since he'd started on the _Compendium,_ he'd eaten…well, he _hadn't_ , simply using his magic to sustain himself. Certainly, such a thing wasn't healthy but…

It really wasn't healthy, he thought. And he should've known better.

Well, now he _did_ and he was going to make up for it. Starting with finding the source of that _heavenly_ smell…

"Oh, Warlic! Up already?"

The voice that greeted him wasn't one he expected. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes as he took in the sight of the Hero of Falconreach standing in his kitchen, grinning brightly at him.

In a frilly pink apron embroidered with daisies.

And a hairnet.

…it bothered him that he found the sight _incredibly_ endearing.

"Hello? Lore to Warlic?"

"Ah, Hero, good to see you," he amended, recovering from his faux pas with a welcoming smile, managing to hide his surprise rather expertly. He shouldn't have been surprised, really. After all, he'd seen the Hero in quite a few classes, by this point. He hadn't known there'd been a Chef class, though… "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"My daggers, remember?" the Hero said cheerfully. "Those Stria Daggers I dropped off last week? The ones you wanted those Essences for? You told me they'd be finished right around now so I came to pick them up. Only, well, you were asleep so I figured I'd ask when you woke up."

Dimly, he _did_ remember them. He'd finished upgrading them into Dust Devils just before the shipment of tomes arrived. Good thing, too, he realized, otherwise he might've forgotten to do it, in light of the books he'd gotten.

"They're finished, yes. If you want, I can get them for you right now," he said, nodding. "I am sorry for that – ah – _unprofessionalism._ You could've woken me, you know?"

The responding shrug reeked of indifference. "Yeah, I know," the Hero said easily. "But, well, you looked like you needed the sleep and I didn't mind the wait. Actually, I figured that, while I was here, I might as well make some lunch for us both. You don't mind that I used your kitchen? I brought my own ingredients so…"

"That's fine," he said. So _that_ was where the smell had come from. Truth be told, he was a bit surprised. He hadn't known the Hero to be any good at cooking, possible Chef class aside.

 _Then again, that vultragon egg_ had _been pretty tasty,_ he thought to himself, his stomach growling once more in response.

He heard a faint chuckle. "Hungry, huh?" the rogue teased. "Take a seat. I mean, it _is_ your home, after all."

He did as such and, soon enough, the hero placed a plate, some cutlery and a cup steaming with that _delicious_ scent he'd smelled earlier. He took a deep draught of it and –

 _Mmmm…_

"Pretty good, huh?" he heard the Hero say. "It's Lady Celestia's own special brew – only I added a few of my own twists."

He'd had the Priestess' tea before but he had _never_ had one as good as this. The taste was fragrant and bold and drinking it made him feel like warmth was spreading through the entirety of his being, chasing away a chill he didn't know was even _there_. He couldn't stop until he'd finished off the whole cup, it was so _good…_

A stream of that wonderful tea poured into his all-too-quickly emptied cup, looking for all the world like liquid sunshine.

"The trick is to add a joyleaf as you're brewing it," the Hero explained. "It really makes the smell pop."

"Indeed," he murmured, his voice perhaps more reverent than he'd intended it to be. "Thank you."

The Hero flashed him a quick smile before turning to the kitchen, leaving him to enjoy his tea once more. He hears the familiar sound of his stove flaring on as he took another deep draught of the tea, enjoying the flavor, the aroma, with closed eyes.

"Adding a dash of sunlotus extract helps too," the Hero said amiably, voice raised so as not to be drowned by the clinking of ceramic and silverware as the rogue busied about with their lunch. "If you want, I can give you my recipe."

"That would be appreciated," he said, still savoring the smell, the flavors that bloomed on his tongue. "Truly."

"Alright then. Remind me after lunch. Oh, uh, here. Sorry if it's a bit cold –" the Hero placed a bowl on his plate, one bearing rice, a creamy-looking broth, strips of some kind of fish, an assortment of herbs and a smell that at once struck him as warm and summery – "I packed these up for myself this morning. Just give me a few minutes and I'll have something hot for you."

If 'a bit cold' amounted to something like _this_ , he'd leave his food out more often. The food was a touch cool, yes, but it tasted, for lack of a better word, like _summer_ itself. The rice was light, fluffy and unexpectedly zesty, the slight tinge of lemon blending well with the delicate sweetness of the broth the rice was soaked in. The fish was cooked to perfection, practically melting in his mouth before he even started chewing, and spiced so beautifully that he can almost feel the flavors blooming on his tongue.

To top it all off, the smell was every bit as appealing as the tea that had come before it. He can't even stop himself, it all tasted too good, too _good,_ especially when he hadn't eaten in so long –

"… _damn._ I didn't think it was even _possible_ for anyone to eat that quickly."

The Hero was grinning at him, eyes alight with amusement, and it was only then that he realized that he'd managed to finish his bowl in the same amount of time it normally took him to take a sip of water.

"This was a first for me, as well," he admitted, leaning back into his chair with a satisfied smile and an even more satisfied stomach. "You should be proud. That meal was the best food I've ever eaten."

"You don't need to flatter me, you know," the rogue said, turning back to the stove. He thought he might've caught a hint of a flush marring the adventurer's face. "It's really not a big deal."

"I'm not flattering you, Hero," he said. "I've lived for many years and visited places beyond your wildest dreams and I can safely say that what you've given was just about the best thing I've ever tasted. Thank you," he said sincerely.

"Eh – well – sure, I guess," the Hero said, looking rather embarrassed. "It's nothing really."

He leaned back against his chair, sighing contentedly as he regarded the hero with a warm smile. "I must repay you in some way. Is there anything you need? If it's gold, I would gladly give it – "

"No! There's no need, really!" the vehemence in the Hero's exclamation took him by surprise. "I mean, lunch isn't even done yet – not that I'm _asking_ for any payment it's just – "

"Not done yet?" he interrupts, looking at the Hero with one raised brow. "What do you mean by that?"

The expression that the Hero responded to him with was equal parts confusion and bemusement, as if he'd said something unbelievably stupid. "That stuff I gave you earlier, that stuff was just an appetizer." The Hero then gestured to the stove, where a huge array of pots and pans still bubbled and broiled. "The swordfish steak'll take a few more minutes of grilling, plus another few for spicing," the Hero recited, with the air of one who'd done this on a professional level. "Dessert'll take another half hour to finish baking, at best, and then I'll have to arrange the toppings and give it a nice glaze. It's a mixed berry tart – " the Hero added, seeing his stunned expression. "Really nice, all sweetpalm fruits, and cloudberries and sun dragonfruits. I'll be glazing it with Oaklore Royal Purple Honey. Oh, and before that, I have to finish making the sides for the steak – nothing too fancy, just a nice little salad or maybe some potatoes."

"… just how long have you been cooking?" he had to ask, looking dazedly around his kitchen and finally noting just how many dishes, bowls and jars were out, set and opened, just how many new stains decorated his once pristine kitchen.

The Hero looked thoughtful for a moment. "Two or three hours," the rogue said, voice unsure. "Most of it went to prep time. I had to use premade dough for the tart though."

He blinked. "You spent two or three solid hours cooking for me?" he asked, disbelief coloring his tone. Within that span of time, just about anyone could've finished a quest or two. For _this_ hero, three hours would equal practically a dozen of them. He couldn't begin to imagine how much potential profit had been lost when the Hero decided to spend that much time on cooking."Are – really, that isn't nothing, not by anyone's standards. Really, Hero, I'd feel guilty if I didn't do anything in return – "

"No, really! There's no need!" The Hero said, incredibly enough, looking almost distressed at the thought of him rewarding what was apparently going to be an amazing meal. "Look, this is practically part of my job and all so accepting any extra rewards'll just feel… _wrong."_

"Part of the job?" he echoed, one eyebrow raised. He'd read _The Hero's Guide to Heroing_ before and he was quite certain that watching out for the state of his stomach wasn't mentioned as being one of a hero's duties. "Part of your job is to make sure I've eaten?"

"If it makes you happy, then yeah."

"If it makes me – Hero, what _is_ your job?"

The distress fled the Hero's features as a smile crept over the rogue's features.

"Exactly that. Hero. Isn't that a hero's job, to make everyone happy?"

The smile on the rogue's face grew as the rogue spoke, as if stating them made the Hero surer, more determined.

He'd always thought, privately, that the Hero was plain of face but the smile he saw gracing the Hero's features was one as warm and bright as the sun.

He didn't think he'd ever heard of anything so naïve.

He smiled just a touch faintly, almost astounded at hearing words as naïve as the ones he'd just heard coming from an adventurer he'd knew had lived through more battles, quests and wars than some did in their entire lifetimes. "Do you really think you can make everyone happy?"

He'd known the Hero to be a bit naïve but this was actually shocking. To aim to make everyone happy was a task that no one, not the greatest heroes or the strongest spellcasters or even the Elemental Lords with all their power, could ever hope to accomplish. He remembered just _why_ he'd committed himself to studying those tomes to the point of collapse, the people he'd hurt and the mistakes he couldn't undo. There were some hurts that could never be undone, some pains that could never be soothed and, above all, some people so broken that happiness, _real_ happiness, was out of the question entirely.

It was one of the first things he'd learned when he'd started out as the Blue Mage. That no matter no matter how hard you try at whatever it was you do, you were to fail someone eventually, and, when that happened, for that person, your failure would mark them, scar them, for the rest of their life.

To say that your job was to make everyone happy was to set yourself up for a failure of almost incomprehensible scale. Not everyone could be happy and not everyone _deserved_ to be happy.

The Hero's smile turned cheeky. "You're smiling, aren't you?" the rogue said wryly.

Well, that _was_ true.

He touched his cheek lightly as the smile fell from his face.

"I suppose, yes," he said quietly.

The Hero turned back to face the stove.

"The answer's no, by the way."

He turned to face them. "Beg your pardon?"

"No. I don't think I can make everyone happy," the Hero said softly, words almost drowned by the sudden hissing from the stove as the rogue fiddled with the contents of a frying pan. "Sometimes, I can't even make myself happy."

He'd never heard the Hero like this before.

"Then why?" he asked, intrigued. "If you know it can't be done then why do you keep at it?"

"Because I want to believe that it can," was the Hero's answer. As he watched, the rogue heaved the pan off the stove and onto the counter, where a massive platter awaited. Then, the Hero turned back to face the stove once again. "Everyone deserves to be happy, don't you think?"

No, he thinks, he didn't, for one. But he doesn't voice the thought, instead continuing:

"But if you already know the impossibility of your task, why do you still try to believe?"

The Hero faced him once more, a small, sad smile gracing those normally peppy features. "Because." The rogue said simply. "That's why."

For a few minutes, silence reigned between them as the Hero faced the stove once more, spatula in hand.

"If I can make at least someone happy," the Hero said, voice thoughtful. "Then I'll know that my job isn't impossible."

He regarded the Hero with narrowed eyes. "'Someone' and 'everyone' are about as far from each other as you can get."

The Hero shrugged. "It's a start, at least."

It was then that the rogue placed before him the platter he'd seen earlier. This time, atop the platter was a beautiful slab of pale pink fish, steaming and gleaming in the sunlight, its surface glistening golden brown from a fragrant sauce. The whole thing was speckled with dark green herbs and dotted with bits of orange roe. As he watched, the Hero descended once more with a spatula in hand, daintily adding a septet of baby potatoes on the side, all roasted in their jackets to a gorgeous brown.

The Hero then smiled at him with the kind of smile that would've illuminated even Voidstar's darkness, the kind of smile that would've inspired the masses, the kind of smile that made him feel, for a second, that he could believe in this one, young Hero.

"Are you happy, Warlic?"

The smell was summer. The smell was a warm ocean breeze and sea spray in his hair. The smell was bright sunshine, an open window and summer flowers in full bloom. The smell was water lapping at his ankles and laughter and someone crying out ' _Warlic!'_ and collecting ocean reagents for his master with –

He takes a bite.

"Yes," he says, eyes watering from the still steaming food and _absolutely nothing else (he swears)._ "I am."

"Then I'm happy."

He knows it won't last. He knows that, sooner or later, he'll have to return to his work, to trying to find a cure he's half-sure might not exist. He knows that, sooner or later, the Hero will go and leave and die like all the other heroes he'd assisted over the course of his life.

But for now –

"So, tea or juice?"

He's simply enjoying a meal with a friend, the absolute best meal he's had since just about forever and, in this moment, his heart feels just a little bit lighter.


	6. The Literal Form (Warlic&Hero humor)

**The last of 'em. Written as a joke. I still like it. Enjoy.**

 **Anonymous asked: any form of warlic shipped with the hero, please**

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"Hero," Warlic began, tone unexpectedly weary. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

The Hero, in her defense, looked contrite as she met Warlic's gaze, smiling nervously as she cast about for something to say.

"Well," she said, looking at where she estimated the toes of her boots would be had they not been obscured by the massive amount of fish piled at her feet. "Don't they say shipping brings people together?"

Warlic massaged the bridge of his nose, sighing. It really was amazing how he could look so crushing in his disappointment considering that he was sitting on a crate with a pile of dead fish at his feet. Unlike her, he still looked perfectly composed, which was unfair considering she'd gotten knocked out and thrown in with the fish too and _she_ didn't look anywhere _near_ as good. "Hero, when I said I was curious about seeing the inner workings of a fishing trawler," Warlic began. "I meant I wanted to see schematics. A book about fishing trawlers, perhaps. I said nothing about desiring to be shipped off to a frozen wasteland."

"Technically, Dragesvard _i_ _sn't_ a frozen wasteland," she hazarded, smiling nervously as the Blue Mage groaned and massaged his temples. "I mean, the people of Dragesvard - Dragesvardians? - have been living there since just about forever."

"There's a fish in my robe, Hero," he said, expression blank. " _Fish_. Semantics won't save you now."

"Look, Warlic, there's no way I could've known our ship would get attacked by pirates, alright? All I knew was, you were curious about trawlers and had nothing better to do, old man Patchrick was okay with giving us a tour of his ship and that it's been a slow enough week that that actually sounded _fun_. Last I remember, you were all for taking the trip with me."

Warlic crossed his arms, expression stern. "While I agree that you couldn't have foreseen the pirate attack, I certainly thought you to be sensible enough to take some precaution in protecting the ship against threats. Threats which include the ninja-pirate-monkees now occupying the ship."

She wilted under his gaze. "I thought old man Patchrick had those covered…"

"With all due respect, old man Patchrick would fail in 'covering' a papercut."

"Are you saying old man Patchrick's an idiot?"

"Are fish smelly?"

A fish fell from its place on a high shelf and landed with a smack on her head. She returned his gaze balefully from beneath the fish's tail, blue eyes shadowed by the fish on her head.

"… I guess they kinda are, yeah," she conceded, picking up the fish by the very tip of its tail then tossing it carelessly over her shoulder. Behind her, her dragon snapped up and caught it in his mouth, swallowing it in a single gulp with a happy growl. Between the three of them, he was the only one having any semblance of fun. "Look, before you lay into me about this, shouldn't you have been able to sense those pinja monkees from, like, a mile away? The mana's within you and all that?"

This time, it was Warlic who looked shifty. "While I normally would've," he said, staring pointedly at the fish wriggling inside her dragon's mouth, one that stared balefully at him as if to blame him for its current predicament. "…I was distracted by Old Man Patchrick and his stories about jellyfishing."

She threw back her head to laugh and immediately banged it against the wooden walls of the ship as it swayed on the waves.

"Anyway," he continued, gracefully ignoring her muffled cursing. "I don't suppose you have a plan to get us out of this predicament?"

"Well," she began. "I do, actually."

He raised a brow. "I'm listening."

"It's not going to be easy," she warned. "It'll take a bit of time but, with your help, I'm sure we can pull it off."

"As I said before: I'm listening," he said, eyebrow rising a fraction of an inch closer to his hairline.

"Alright, don't say I didn't warn you."

Then, taking a deep breath, she said it.

"We go up there and kill everything."

For a moment, the ship stopped swaying as the chittering of the monkees overhead came to a halt, the flopping of the fish at their feet stopping as _time itself_ skittered to a halt.

"What."

"You heard me," she said. "We go out there and kill everything. Great plan, right?"

His expression was a canvas only the greatest could interpret. The greatest what, even he couldn't say.

Actually, scratch that. He honestly couldn't say anything at this moment.

"Well?" she said awkwardly, a good five minutes having passed with them doing nothing but stare at each other. "Should we go for it?"

"Hero," he said, at last regaining his voice. "That… doesn't sound like a very sound plan."

She shrugged. "I never said I was much of a strategist," she said simply. "And I don't see you giving any suggestions."

"… we could take the obvious route and teleport out of here," he said, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Or - " a fish was sent flying towards his face as the ship crested a wave, only to be repelled by a wall of shimmering magic summoned by an almost casual flick of his fingers " - we could escape this ship with the help of the dragon conveniently sitting behind you."

Said dragon was currently napping over a pile of fish bones, belly distended, snoring lightly as he did.

The Hero raised a single brow. "You think I haven't tried the teleporting thing? I can't. Ship must be warded against it or something - "

"Wait," he interrupted, looking interested. "You can teleport?"

She nodded. "Only to my hometown but, yeah. I can. Not here but, well, usually I can."

"Hmm." He looked contemplative. The orb in his arms glowed white for a fraction of a second before returning to its original state. "I see. Well, it seems teleporting isn't going to be an option after all."

"Wait, really?" She looked legitimately surprised. "I figured you could probably… I don't know… bypass the anti-teleporting thingies or something."

"I could certainly attempt to do so," he nodded. "But, given the nature of my powers, I wouldn't advise it."

"Why not?"

He held out is hand, flexing his fingers. "I don't know how this ship is warded against teleportation. Given time and reagents, I should be able to tell eventually but, as I am now, the only way to tell would be through trial and error. Considering how my magic functions, such a thing would be fairly inadvisable."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"You like having all of your limbs attached, yes?"

"… Fair enough," she conceded. "So, if teleporting isn't an option, then why isn't just going up there and killing everything one?"

He looked at her for a few, long moments. "Do you realize how insane that task is?"

She shrugged. "Honestly, it wouldn't be the first time I did something like it."

"Strong as you are, you'll be outnumbered fifteen to one."

"I've faced worse odds."

"Really now?"

"… you _do_ know I participate in the wars around here, right?"

"…And simply escaping on the back of your dragon isn't an option because…?"

"Look, the way I see it is, if I transform my dragon right here and now, I'll wreck the ship and probably get us stranded on the ocean floor. I mean, even if drowning hasn't been an issue since I dumped those water-breathing potions - "

"That was _you?!"_

" _Shit_ \- uh - well, the point is, we'll be risking getting hypothermia in this part of the sea. 'Sides, old man Patchrick's still upstairs and we need to make sure he's alright before we do any weird escape stunts. Now, if I go upstairs and just _fight_ them - "

"You risk getting yourself mobbed by a horde of monkees."

"That's a normal risk in my line of work. Anyway, even if I - well, me and Draco - somehow fail in beating them, I'll have the option of just transforming Draco right then and there. Since we'll have more space, we won't be risking exploding the ship and if I can grab old man Patchrick, we'll all have our ticket out of there."

A few seconds passed.

"You've certainly thought this through," he conceded. "Certainly more than I thought you had."

"I get that a lot," she said reassuringly. "So, shall we go for it?"

"What will you be having me do?"

"Well, since it's _technically_ my fault that we're in this mess, I figured you could go ahead, sit back, enjoy the… uh…"

There, she paused. All around them were piles upon piles of fish of every kind, handily obscuring any sights that might've once been seen. As she watched, a the ship swayed beneath her feet, sending her stumbling as a massive pile of fish was knocked off balance, sending the whole of it crashing against her legs, bouncing off against a wall of magic Warlic conjured at the last second.

"…you know what, how about I'll get you dinner and we'll call it good?" she offered, after she'd finally dug her legs out from under the fish. "I can handle things from here, anyway. You can just sit tight, enjoy the show or whatever and then I'll go fly us back to your place."

He tilted his head quizzically to one side. "Are you certain you can handle them all by yourself?" he had to ask.

"I should, yeah," she answered immediately, nodding. "It shouldn't be much harder than my usual quests."

"And you're certain you won't need my help?"

"I shouldn't. I mean, it's not like this is the first time I've done this sort of thing." As if on cue, her dragon flew to her side, fangs bared. "Not Draco's either."

He met her gaze for a few moments before sighing. "Well, if you're sure you can handle it," he muttered, relaxing in his stance as he leaned against the ship's walls. "Do know that I'll be keeping an eye on you, Hero."

"I don't mind," she said, laughing slightly. "Honestly, though, this shouldn't take more than five minutes."

With that, her dragon leapt up and perched himself on her shoulder, smoke exiting his nostrils as he prepared his fire-breath.

"Be right back!" she said cheerfully.

For a second, he felt worried as she shut the door behind her, inciting the monkees into a screeching frenzy.

But then, almost too quickly, the monkees' battlecries turned to shrieks of terror and he breathed a sigh of relief, deflecting a fish coming at his face as he did so, and let himself wonder what the food was going to be.

* * *

 **That's everything. Reviews are always lovely and have a nice day.**


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